


drank

by ironicHeadtilt



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Banter, M/M, One-Shot, no storyline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 11:09:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4017487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironicHeadtilt/pseuds/ironicHeadtilt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk is at a wedding reception. No one has fun at a wedding reception.</p>
            </blockquote>





	drank

Kirk was more than a little drunk. This wasn’t entirely surprising. He’d been able to keep a buzz going through most of the day, but with all of the main events accomplished, he really had nothing to hold him back anymore.

His brother was married. This wasn’t entirely surprising either. George had always been the more decisive, intelligent, academically mature of the two brothers, and he’d always been able to hold down relationships. Kirk was sure George had a grand total of maybe three girlfriends his entire life, including his now wife Aurelan. These were not things Kirk was capable of.

Kirk had usually found his brother’s commitment to be kind of lame. Or, he’d decided it was lame. He decided it just wasn’t something that he wanted. And maybe he really didn’t want it. Maybe he really didn’t want any of this hullabaloo: the perfectly modest, all-american bride and the weird camaraderie that seemed to be already forming between the men who were already married and George, like it was some big, exclusive club.

Today had seriously fucked up Kirk’s concept of what he wanted. All of it, he had been sure he wanted no part of. Suddenly, this morning, he’d had… doubts. Doubts he didn’t like to think about. Doubts he’d been able to avoid with keeping busy and a little bit of whiskey.

The dark reception hall was lit by cheap laser lights and cheaper glow sticks. The formal part of the reception was over. All who remained were the folks who were in for the long run. The music was loud and unapologetic; the kinda music Kirk was normally down for. It pulsed around the room, making its ringed way towards where Kirk now sat, just outside the bubble. He should’ve been acting as best man, on the dancefloor, dancing like the asshole he was.

Instead, he was foggily aware that the bartender was contemplating whether or not to allow him to imbibe much longer.

“You’ve had quite enough,” The bartender said factually, his brow the only thing betraying his concern.

“Bullshit,” Kirk pointed a finger in the bartender’s face. “I’ll be the judge of that, sir.”

“You can barely keep your finger steady and your words were barely intelligible. You’ve had enough,” He took Kirk’s cup away.

“What? No, that was perfectly-” Kirk realized he actually wasn’t sure what his words sounded like. His mouth felt weirdly disconnected from his body. He focussed hard on finding his lips.

“What’s your name?” Kirk asked, grabbing the straw out of his drink from behind the counter and chewing on it. The bartender didn’t seem to like that.

“That’s hardly appropriate,” The man replied. “I have a nametag,”

“The nametag’s bullshit, too.” Kirk said around thin red plastic. The other guy balked.

“It’s not,”

“Your name is not Bill,”

“Its a very common name,”

“Not yours. Fucking bullshit,” Kirk leaned forward a smidge, tilting his head and squinting his eyes. “What are you? Jewish? Indian?”

“What’s the purpose of this?”

“None,” Kirk licked his lips, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. “I’m James. Jim. And you are?”

“Why are you so sure I’m not Bill?”

“I don’t know. Just a guess. So, you’re not Bill?”

“You can’t guess that a name is fake. Why do you think my name isn’t Bill?”

“Magicians never reveal their secrets.”

“Magicians use deception and sleight of hand to hide their true processes. How did you come to this conclusion.” He asked the question like a statement. Kirk took the straw out of his mouth a moment, looking the guy up and down.

“I’m really sorry, man,” Kirk swayed a second, grinning. “I forgot why. So, what’s your real name then?”

The man regarded Kirk a second, his expression unreadable.

“You’re drunk. You’ll laugh.” He finally said.

“I’ll laugh?”

“Yes.”

“And this would hurt your feelings?”

“No.”

“But its better to be known as ‘Bill’?”

“Yes.”

Kirk’s mind was simultaneously going too quick and too slow to keep up with all the questions he was asking. He contemplated his options, nodding his head; nodding it too far, almost falling off his stool, putting his hand down on the counter, his fingers barely touching the bartender’s for a second. The man pulled his hand away.

“My name is Spock.”

“Holy shit.” Kirk whispered, open-mouth smiling. Spock glowered at him. “No, man, that’s cool. That’s the coolest fucking name I’ve ever heard. Coolest fucking name, no lies.”

Spock grabbed the stack of glasses to his right and walked towards the sink, in the back to the left. Kirk moved accordingly.

“You’re an arrogant prick.” Kirk said, practically lying down on the counter. “You’re really into whatever it is you think you are.”

“I could surmise the same for you.” Spock said over his shoulder, turning on the water.

“First: absolutely absolutely. Second: you’re using words like ‘surmise’ and I’m having a hard time staying on the barstool at a wedding reception. And its not like I don’t know what that word means, its just pretty funky that you’re using it as a bartender to an obvious alcoholic.” Kirk pulled the straw out of his mouth, furrowing his brow in faux seriousness. “It just further proves my theory.”

Spock turned from the sink and eyed Kirk suspiciously.

A woman from the wedding party walked up beside Kirk. She put a few glasses upside down on the counter and ran a hand through her hair. She caught Kirk out of the corner of her eye. He was leaning on the counter in an attempt to look suave.

“How’s it going?” Kirk asked, smirking. She ignored him.

“Bill,” She said, pointedly. “Could you make sure Jim here gets a cab?”

Spock didn’t respond; just splashed around in the water a little while making aggressive eye-contact with her.

“I could,” He finally confirmed, looking back down at the glasses in his hands.

“Spock-”

“Nyota. It’s fine. I’ll do it.” Spock sighed, wiping his wet hands on his apron. He didn’t meet her eye.

Nyota drummed her fingers on the counter a moment, then placed her hand palm down before walking away. Kirk watched her leave, putting the straw back into his mouth.

“Who-” Kirk started.

“Don’t.” Spock finished.

“Girlfriend? Ex-girlfriend?”

“Don’t.” Spock repeated, pulling his phone out of his back pocket and pushing the kitchen door open with his hip.

Kirk spun on his barstool, watching the dance floor from seemingly very far away. A slow song was playing, some 80s rock ballad that played at literally every wedding anyone had ever been to. George was holding Aurelan close, her head resting lazily on his shoulder in their wedding attire. A dozen other couples were in similar positions; one including the Nyota Kirk had just met. Kirk scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

The kitchen door opened. Kirk heard but didn’t turn around. Whatever banter or flirtation he’d been trying to sustain wasn’t really as appealing anymore. Despite his best efforts, he listened attently to the sound of glasses moving behind him.

Two fingers of whiskey were placed on the counter next to Kirk. He glanced at it, then at the bartender who put it there. Spock was tossing back a drink of his own.

“Cheers,” Kirk remarked bitterly, holding the glass at a lazy angle.

Spock pursed his lips, glaring at the empty glass in his hand. He filled it another finger and downed that one, too. He slapped the glass down on the counter; his forehead closely followed.

Kirk turned back to the counter, putting his back to the crowd that so taunted him.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry


End file.
